Apart from my experiences with political leaders and police officers, I had another very different experience. When I was staying in Kerala Lodge, after my return from Chathamangalam to Calicut, an invitation came to me from an unexpected corner. It was from Mr. K. P. Kesava Menon, Chief Editor of the Mathrubhoomi daily. I had never approached him regarding Rajan’s case, but somehow he was aware of the problems I was entangled in. When I met him, I came to know that he had a clear and strong stand against the atrocities committed during the Emergency.
I gave him copies of memoranda I had submitted to different authorities. Due to fading eyesight he didn”t care to read them, but said he would go through them later. He asked me the details of what was happening at Kakkayam and Kayanna. When I told him how Mr. Jayaram Padikkal treated Professor Vahabudeen his face darkened. He was clearly sad about the country’s moral degradation. He promised to do whatever possible, and I arranged to meet him again the following week.
This experience with him, different from others, made me happy. When I met him later, he had no new information to give to me, but his words were consoling. The simple interest he took in my case was more than enough for a father like me. ‘Let me try once more; give me another chance,’ he said, as if it was a request. I agreed and went to him after another week. He looked very sad. He had failed to do anything in spite of his best efforts, and was disappointed. ‘Stop enquiring around the place like this. Go back to Ernakulam and take a rest. If fortunate, we will meet again,’ he said.
Mr. K. P. Kesava Menon couldn’t help with Rajan’s case, but the interest he showed consoled me. Two to three days later there appeared an editorial written by him in the Mathrubhoomi daily. Defying the censorship that prevailed during the Emergency, he revealed a lot about things going on during those days. I felt that he wrote the editorial based on my experiences. I still remember the last sentence: ‘During these days of Emergency many people are suffering a lot, but none dare to complain to the authorities. Only a few, left with little alternative, are bold enough to do that.’ Indeed, by this time I had gained the inner strength to petition everyone from the President of India to the lowest police officer.
I concluded my enquiries at Chathamangalam and Calicut, returned to Ernakulam, and stayed at my house. The atmosphere of deep woe at home was horrible. They all still had a faint hope that I would come back with Rajan, but that hope too vanished with my return. I was scared to go back without him.
In India, the police pick up people, and some die from torture while in the lock-up. This is common in our country, so it is reasonable to ask why Rajan’s case was special. In all other cases during the Emergency, information about the concerned person was made available to his or her parents. In my son’s case no one, from the Chief Minister to the Circle Inspector at Kayanna, was ready to give me any information about Rajan. Only when a court later ordered the government to present Rajan before it did the truth come out.
Only those who have gone through such misery understand the agony of parents who must drag themselves through life without getting information about a missing child. For me it was like a pin being constantly inserted into my body. If I thought of my son while eating I found it difficult to continue. When I slept memories of him would surround me. My inner self was always writhing, as if on a red-hot tin sheet. All my dear ones blamed me for not finding Rajan, and our home became a disturbing place in his absence. Whereas students had used to visit, after Rajan’s disappearance a sullen silence always surrounded that house.
Outside home, people started to avoid me. For them I was the father of an extremist. I was scared to talk to people. The fear of what they would think was always there. I often felt that I was a character in a story by the great Indian writer Premchand. I imagined myself as the freedom fighter in his short story, ‘The Examination’, because people had started to reject me so much.
It was then that I received a letter from comrade A. K. Gopalan. It was like moonlight breaking the darkness in my home. He informed me that he had forwarded my memorandum to the Prime Minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi, and had strongly demanded steps to trace Rajan. I had sent petitions to many, but none cared to respond. That Mr. A. K. Gopalan, then the leader of the opposition, had taken up the case was a solace to me. All the family felt happy. Mr. A. K. Gopalan dedicated his life to suffering people. Sadly, he couldn’t help me much because he passed away after a while. That I couldn’t meet and thank Mr. A. K. Gopalan before he died still pains me.
